With the arrival of spring, there comes the eagerly anticipated sounds of a new baseball season: the “crack” of a batted ball and the “thud” of a ball thrown crisply into a baseball mitt. And for about 2.7 million boys and girls between the ages of nine and 12, it means Little League baseball. Excitement will be high and expectations will soar. Except, that is, for the 300,000 or so right-fielders, who, since Little League began 75 years ago, have traditionally been the targets of snide and derogatory comments. Long the symbols of athletic ineptitude and unintentional comic relief, these put-upon souls, however, have demonstrated that they are tougher and more resilient than anyone imagined. Not only do they survive, but they prosper. We are all familiar with them.

He may be chubby or toothpick skinny; ungainly, if not outright klutzy; meek or annoyingly nerdy; chosen last in Little League drafts; and ALWAYS exiled to right field, where, hopefully, he can do the least harm. And if that weren’t bad enough, he will somehow be the batter in the last inning, two outs, bases loaded, and his team one run behind.

It might as well be a hundred. Inevitably, he flails weakly at a pitch over his head or stares, mesmerized, at a third strike that crosses over the middle of the plate. The collective groans are audible.

In right field – HIS field – a routine fly ball or grounder will be unimpeded by baseball mitt or body part until it ends up in the furthest reaches of the baseball field. Chasing, rather than catching, is a fairly accurate description of his fielding skills. Parental fantasies of a future Mickey Mantle or Willie Mays are crushed early on.

But I ask you to not despair. He may not be able to hit or catch a baseball, but there is more than you realize to celebrate than bemoan. Because, more often than not, there are things that distinguish your right-fielder from his more athletic teammates. Attributes that will bode well for him (and you) in the foreseeable future.

He is smart, possibly brilliant, industrious, motivated, enthusiastic, curious and competitive. Hey, that’s why he gets all “A”s. And who would be foolish enough to say that any list of Nobelists, icons of science, mathematical geniuses and giants of industry wouldn’t be loaded with right-fielders? Could anyone, even in his wildest dreams, picture Bill Gates or Steve Jobs as fleet, graceful, power-hitting outfielders; Steven Spielberg throwing out a runner from deep shortstop, or Mark Zuckerberg hitting 93 on the radar gun? I don’t think so.

And we all know that Albert Einstein could have expounded at length on the physics of a curve ball, but I’m pretty damn sure he couldn’t hit one.

My theory is reinforced when I remember our sons’ Little League days. One right-fielder is now a co-founder of a successful electronics company. He had a serious problem locating a fly ball but he was able to find the formula for his company’s spectacular growth. Another right-fielder who could “butcher” a fly ball is now a heart surgeon. Finally, he is recognized for his “good hands.”

So your son’s a right-fielder? Relax, it’s only a game. Forget the athletic scholarship or the big fat signing bonus. A child’s future cannot be predicted by batting averages and ERA’s alone. And the next time the other parents are snickering and groaning about your athletically challenged son when he makes an error or strikes out, snicker to yourself and relish the plausible possibility that some day, their kid might be working for your kid. Let a new triumphant cry of pride and joy echo through the land: MY SON, THE RIGHT-FIELDER!

Jerry Marsh lives in Twinsburg and was the proud parent of two right-fielders.

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